


Leave forget-me-nots on my grave ( I like the colour.) Or, doesn’t anybody mourn child soldiers?

by Theghostinthemirror



Series: Or, [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theghostinthemirror/pseuds/Theghostinthemirror
Summary: How many colours are forget-me-nots? That’s the funny thing, I don’t remember.Bucky & recovery & flowers.
Series: Or, [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888414





	Leave forget-me-nots on my grave ( I like the colour.) Or, doesn’t anybody mourn child soldiers?

Forget-me-nots come in many colours. Bucky liked them in pink. He liked them in pink because people always assumed they only came in blue. But he knew they could be pink because Sister Margot at the orphanage kept a garden and she had all sorts of flowers, and pink forget-me-nots. They grew in the shade next to the begonia. Whenever he was scared, he would always picture their colour and smell, and for just a moment, he’d be there: helping Sister Margot to water them.

Bucky had a photographic memory. He doesn’t anymore.  
Sure, he’s got some of his memories, he’s not a blank slate for another’s whims anymore, but he’s not quite himself either.

He’s got brain damage, severe brain damage. His memory is splotchy and short term and mixes with dreams far too often to be at all reliable.  
Sometimes he thinks he remembers the flowers but they are always blue in his memory, and he knows that’s not right. He’s remembering the blue of the uniform, is it his? No, it can’t be.  
His uniform is black leather, and the oldest one he can think of was a long thick brown coat with twin stars on the collar. Those were red. 

Sometimes he imagines the gaps in his arm—the one that doesn’t feel—are full of the blue kind of flowers. Whenever he goes to touch them though, they wither and rot. Are the flowers at the orphanage still there? Probably not. Do people still leave fresh flowers at his grave? Probably not. His death is not new anymore, he has been forgotten, the flowers have all rotted away with time.

He hates being forgotten. A thought that only occasionally graces the mind of some tourist walking by his statue. He is nothing more than a footnote, a person that once breathed and lived but who’s life is no longer worth anything at all to anyone. He knows he’s a hypocrite for it.  
The Red Room remembers him, but they don’t remember him. The blonde man seemed to remember.

Does he leave flowers at his grave?

Was his life worth mourning? It’s not anymore, he knows that much. He’s done things no amount of good could ever repent for. He is forgotten but not forgiven. He can’t be, for what he’s done, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. He let them use him. He let them brainwash him. The blonde man would never have been so weak. Why didn’t he…? Why didn’t he even question what he was doing..? Why did he just comply…? He could’ve fought. ( He couldn’t have.) 

Why did he run away..? Not from the Red Room but from Steve. Why did he forget him? Why did Steve remember? Why did Steve care?  
The cube was blue, just like the flowers. But he always liked them in pink. He wanted pink flowers at his grave, not blue! He told Natalia that! He told Steve that! 

He sees the pink flowers in his arm. They are lovely and small and fragrant and they remind him not to forget.

“ Remember.” They say.

“ Forget-me-not.” 

“ Forget-me-not!”

He does his best not to. He’s turning back into himself, and he tries to like it.


End file.
